Forest lilac golden crimson. Ivan Bunin - Forest, like a painted tower (Leaf fall)

Amazing autumn this year.
Therefore, we took the opportunity to go for a walk.
There is a large selection of parks, but we settled on Botanical Garden.
True, we made the wrong entrance and walked through neighboring Ostankino.
But...
Beauty - it is BEAUTY in Ostankino!

In general, we missed the mark. Or rather, we didn’t get there.
But maybe it's for the better.

Moreover, I’ve already been to the Botanical Garden once, albeit several years ago, but I can’t get to Ostankino Park.
And it's beautiful here.

Where there is no sun it is a little sad.

But as soon as the sun's rays appear on the leaves, everything around begins to smile.

And it glows like amber in the sun...

Quite unexpectedly, we discovered a new use for a scooter.
If suddenly you don’t have a rake at hand, but you have a scooter, then you can rake the leaves with it. This is even cooler. And it cleans cleaner.

Looking at all this beauty, I remembered a poem...

The forest is like a painted tower,
Lilac, gold, crimson,
A cheerful, motley wall
Standing above a bright clearing.

Birches yellow carving
Glisten in the blue azure,
Like towers, the fir trees are darkening,
And between the maples they turn blue
Here and there through the foliage
Clearances in the sky, like a window.
The forest smells of oak and pine,
Over the summer it dried out from the sun,
And Autumn is a quiet widow
Enters his motley mansion.

Actually, I don’t even know what I can add.
I can hardly write better than Ivan Alekseevich.

We just walked and admired the ducks swimming in the yellow water.

Children's jeans, forgotten by someone on a tree.
Interesting... they hung it up to dry and forgot?)))

Pictures drawn by nature.

And again I disagreed with our great poet.
She's not sad at all. But rather beautiful)))

It's a sad time! charm of the eyes!
Your farewell beauty is pleasant to me -
I love the lush decay of nature,
Forests dressed in scarlet and gold,
In their canopy there is noise and fresh breath,
And the skies are covered with wavy darkness,
And a rare ray of sunshine, and the first frosts,
And distant gray winter threats.

Looking at all this fabulous beauty, the lines of Boris Leonidovich come to mind.

Autumn. Fairytale palace
Open for everyone to review.
Clearings of forest roads,
Looking into the lakes.

Like at a painting exhibition:
Halls, halls, halls, halls
Elm, ash, aspen
Unprecedented in gilding.

Linden gold hoop -
Like a crown on a newlywed.
The face of a birch tree - under a veil
Bridal and transparent.

Buried land
Under leaves in ditches, holes.
In the yellow maple outbuildings,
As if in gilded frames.

Where are the trees in September
At dawn they stand in pairs,
And the sunset on their bark
Leaves an amber trail.

Where you can't step into a ravine,
So that everyone doesn't know:
It's so raging that not a single step
There is a tree leaf underfoot.

Where it sounds at the end of the alleys
Echo at a steep descent
And dawn cherry glue
Solidifies in the form of a clot.

Autumn. Ancient Corner
Old books, clothes, weapons,
Where is the treasure catalog
Flipping through the cold.

And again poetry.

More magnificent than in the clearest hour of bloom,
The alley is dressed in purple.
And in the unsteady gold of the branches
The summer holiday still shines
With its magical charm.

And the night descending into the alley,
Through this red foliage,
I don’t dare call it darkness,
But I won’t even name the dawn!

I wonder... What does this child dream about when looking at the autumn pond?

Day gives way to evening.
And again the poems come to mind...

There are in the brightness of autumn evenings
Touching, mysterious charm:
The ominous shine and diversity of trees,
Crimson leaves languid, light rustle,
Misty and quiet azure
Over the sad orphaned land,
And, like a premonition of descending storms,
Gusty, cold wind sometimes,
Damage, exhaustion - and everything
That gentle smile of fading,
What in a rational being we call
Divine modesty of suffering.

• Performer: Vasily Kupriyanov
• Type: mp3
• Duration: 00:07:13
• Download poems for free

• Listen to poetry online

Your browser does not support HTML5 audio + video.

LEAF FALL

The forest is like a painted tower,
Lilac, gold, crimson,
A cheerful, motley wall
Standing above a bright clearing.

Birch trees with yellow carving
Glisten in the blue azure,
Like towers, the fir trees are darkening,
And between the maples they turn blue
Here and there through the foliage
Clearances in the sky, like a window.
The forest smells of oak and pine,
Over the summer it dried out from the sun,
And Autumn is a quiet widow
Enters his motley mansion.

Today in an empty clearing,
Among the wide yard,
Air web fabric
They shine like a silver net.
Plays all day today
The last moth in the yard
And, like a white petal,
Freezes on the web,
Warmed by the warmth of the sun;
It's so light all around today,
Such dead silence
In the forest and in the blue heights,
What is possible in this silence
Hear the rustle of a leaf.
The forest is like a painted tower,
Lilac, gold, crimson,
Standing above a sunny meadow,
Mesmerized by the silence;
The blackbird clucks as it flies
Among the undersea, where the thick
The foliage sheds an amber glow;
While playing, it will flash in the sky
Scattered flock of starlings -
And again everything around will freeze.

Last moments of happiness!
Autumn already knows what he is
Deep and silent peace -
A harbinger of long bad weather.
Deeply, strangely the forest was silent
And at dawn, when from sunset
Purple sparkle of fire and gold
The tower was illuminated by fire.
Then it became gloomily dark inside him.
The moon is rising, and in the forest
Shadows fall on the dew...
It's become cold and white
Among the clearings, among the through
Of the dead autumn thicket,
And terribly in autumn alone
In the desert silence of the night.

Now the silence is different:
Listen - she is growing,
And with her, frightening with her paleness,
And the month slowly rises.
He made all the shadows shorter
Transparent smoke hovered over the forest
And now he looks straight into the eyes
From the misty heights of heaven.
0, dead sleep of an autumn night!
0, the eerie hour of night wonders!
In the silvery and damp fog
The clearing is light and empty;
Forest, flooded with white light,
With its frozen beauty
As if he were prophesying death for himself;
The owl is silent too: it sits
Yes, he looks stupidly from the branches,
Sometimes he will laugh wildly,
Falls down with a noise from above,
Flapping soft wings,
And he will sit on the bushes again
And he looks with round eyes,
Leading with his eared head
Around, as if in amazement;
And the forest stands in a daze,
Filled with a pale, light haze
And leaves with rotten dampness...

Don't wait: it won't show up in the morning
The sun is in the sky. Rain and haze
The forest is fogged with cold smoke, -
No wonder this night passed!
But Autumn will hide deep
Everything she's been through
In the silent night and lonely
He will lock himself in his chamber:
Let the forest rage in the rain,
May the nights be dark and stormy
And in the clearing there are wolf eyes
They glow green with fire!
The forest is like a tower without a watcher,
All darkened and faded,
September, circling through the forest,
He took the roof off it in places
And the entrance was strewn with damp leaves;
And there the winter fell at night
And it began to melt, killing everything...

Horns blow in distant fields,
Their copper overflow rings,
Like a sad cry among the wide
Rainy and foggy fields.
Through the noise of the trees, beyond the valley,
Lost in the depths of the forests,
The horn of Turin howls gloomily,
Calling the dogs for their prey,
And the sonorous din of their voices
The desert noise carries the storm.
The rain is pouring, cold as ice,
Leaves are spinning across the meadows,
And geese in a long caravan
They fly over the forest.
But the days go by. And now there's smoke
They rise in pillars at dawn,
The forests are crimson, motionless,
The earth is in frosty silver,
And in the ermine slush,
Having washed my pale face,
Meeting the last day in the forest,
Autumn comes out onto the porch.
The yard is empty and cold. At the gate
Among two dried aspen trees,
She can see the blue of the valleys
And the expanse of the desert swamp,
The road to the far south:
There from winter storms and blizzards,
From winter cold and snowstorm
The birds have long since flown away;
There and Autumn in the morning
Will direct his lonely path
And forever in an empty forest
The open mansion will leave its own.

Sorry, forest! Sorry, goodbye
The day will be gentle, good,
And soon soft powder
The dead edge will turn silver.
How strange they will be in this white
Deserted and cold day
And the forest and the empty tower,
And the roofs of quiet villages,
And heaven and without borders
There are receding fields in them!
How happy the sables will be,
And stoats and martens,
frolicking and warming up on the run
In the soft snowdrifts in the meadow!
And there, like a wild dance of a shaman,
They will burst into the bare taiga
Winds from the tundra, from the ocean,
Humming in the spinning snow
And howling in the field like a beast.
They will destroy the old tower,
They will leave the stakes and then
On this empty skeleton
Frost will hang through,
And they will be in the blue sky
The icy palaces shine
And crystal and silver.
And at night, between their white streaks,
The lights of the heavens will rise,
The star shield Stozhar will shine -
At that hour when, in the silence
Frosty fire glows,
The blossoming of the polar lights.

LEAF FALL

The forest is like a painted tower,
Lilac, gold, crimson,
A cheerful, motley wall
Standing above a bright clearing.

Birch trees with yellow carving
Glisten in the blue azure,
Like towers, the fir trees are darkening,
And between the maples they turn blue
Here and there through the foliage
Clearances in the sky, like a window.
The forest smells of oak and pine,
Over the summer it dried out from the sun,
And Autumn is a quiet widow
Enters his colorful mansion.

Today in an empty clearing,
Among the wide yard,
Air web fabric
They shine like a silver net.
Plays all day today
The last moth in the yard
And, like a white petal,
Freezes on the web,
Warmed by the warmth of the sun;
It's so light all around today,
Such dead silence
In the forest and in the blue heights,
What is possible in this silence
Hear the rustling of leaves.

The forest is like a painted tower,
Lilac, gold, crimson,
Standing above a sunny meadow,
Fascinated by the silence;
The blackbird clucks as it flies
Among the undersea, where the thick
The foliage sheds an amber glow;
While playing, it will flash in the sky
Scattered flock of starlings -
And everything will freeze again.

Last moments of happiness!
Autumn already knows what he is
Deep and silent peace -
A harbinger of long bad weather.
Deeply, strangely the forest was silent
And at dawn, when from sunset
Purple sparkle of fire and gold
The tower was illuminated by fire.
Then it became gloomily dark inside him.
The moon is rising, and in the forest
Shadows fall on the dew...
It's become cold and white

Among the clearings, among the through
Of the dead autumn thicket,
And terribly in autumn alone
In the desert silence of the night.
Now the silence is different:
Listen - she is growing,
And with her, frightening with her paleness,
And the month slowly rises.
He made all the shadows shorter
Transparent smoke hovered over the forest
And now he looks straight into the eyes
From the misty heights of heaven.
O dead dream of an autumn night!
O terrible hour of night wonders!
In the silvery and damp fog
The clearing is light and empty;
Forest, flooded with white light,
With its frozen beauty
As if he were prophesying death for himself;
The owl, and she is silent: she sits,
Yes, he looks stupidly from the branches,

Sometimes he will laugh wildly,
Falls down with noise from above,
Flapping soft wings,
And he will sit on the bushes again
And he looks with round eyes,
Leading with his eared head
On the sides, as if in amazement;
And the forest stands in a daze,
Filled with a pale, light haze
And leaves with rotten dampness...

Don't wait: it won't show up in the morning
The sun is in the sky.
Rain and haze
The forest is fogged with cold smoke, -
No wonder this night passed!
But Autumn will hide deep
Everything she's been through
In the silent night and lonely
Lock himself in his chamber:
Let the forest rage in the rain,
May the nights be dark and stormy
And in the clearing there are wolf eyes
They glow green with fire!
The forest is like a tower without a watcher,
All darkened and faded,
September, circling through the forest,
He took the roof off it in places
And the entrance was strewn with damp leaves;
And there the winter fell at night
And it began to melt, killing everything...

Horns sound in distant fields;
Their copper overflow rings,
Like a sad cry among the wide
Rainy and foggy fields.
Through the noise of the trees, beyond the valley,
Lost in the depths of the forests,
The horn of Turin howls gloomily,
Calling the dogs for their prey,
And the sonorous din of their voices
The desert noise carries the storm.
The rain is pouring, cold as ice,
Leaves are spinning across the meadows,
And geese in a long caravan
They are flying over the forest.
But the days go by.
And now there's smoke
They rise in pillars at dawn,
The forests are crimson, motionless,
The earth is in frosty silver,
And in the ermine slush,
Having washed my pale face,
Meeting the last day in the forest,
Autumn comes out onto the porch.
The yard is empty and cold.
At the gate
Among two dried aspen trees,
She can see the blue of the valleys
And the expanse of the desert swamp,
The road to the far south:
There from winter storms and blizzards,
From winter cold and snowstorm
The birds have long since flown away;
There and Autumn in the morning
Will direct his lonely path
And forever in an empty forest
The open mansion will leave its own.

Sorry, forest! Sorry, goodbye!
The day will be gentle, good,
And soon soft powder
The dead edge will turn silver.
How strange they will be in this white
Deserted and cold day
And the forest and the empty tower,
And the roofs of quiet villages,
And heaven and without borders
There are receding fields in them!
How happy the sables will be,
And stoats and martens,
frolicking and basking on the run
In the soft snowdrifts in the meadow!
And there, like a wild dance of a shaman,
They will burst into the bare taiga
Winds from the tundra, from the ocean,
Humming in the spinning snow
And howling in the field as a beast,
They will destroy the old tower,
They will leave the stakes and then
On this empty skeleton
They will hang frost through,
And they will be in the blue sky
The icy palaces shine
And crystal and silver.
And at night, between their white streaks,
The lights of the heavens will enter,
The star shield Stozhar will shine -
At that hour when, in the silence
Frosty fire glows,
Blooming of the Polar Lights!

The forest is like a painted tower,
Lilac, gold, crimson,
A cheerful, motley wall
№4 Standing above a bright clearing.

Birch trees with yellow carving
Glisten in the blue azure,
Like towers, the fir trees are darkening,
№8 And between the maples they turn blue
Here and there through the foliage
Clearances in the sky, like a window.
The forest smells of oak and pine,
№12 Over the summer it dried out from the sun,
And Autumn is a quiet widow
Enters his motley mansion.
Today in an empty clearing,
№16 Among the wide yard,
Air web fabric
They shine like a silver net.
Plays all day today
№20 The last moth in the yard
And, like a white petal,
Freezes on the web,
Warmed by the warmth of the sun;
№24 It's so light all around today,
Such dead silence
In the forest and in the blue heights,
What is possible in this silence
№28 Hear the rustle of a leaf.
The forest is like a painted tower,
Lilac, gold, crimson,
Standing above a sunny meadow,
№32 Mesmerized by the silence;
The thrush clucks, overflowing
Among the undersea, where the thick
The foliage sheds an amber glow;
№36 While playing, it will flash in the sky
Scattered flock of starlings -
And again everything around will freeze.
Last moments of happiness!
№40 Autumn already knows what he is
Deep and silent peace -
A harbinger of long bad weather.
Deeply, strangely the forest was silent
№44 And at dawn, when from sunset
Purple sparkle of fire and gold
The tower was illuminated by fire.
Then it became gloomily dark inside him.
№48 The moon is rising, and in the forest
Shadows fall on the dew...
It's become cold and white
Among the clearings, among the through
№52 Of the dead autumn thicket,
And terribly in autumn alone
In the desert silence of the night.
Now the silence is different:
№56 Listen - she is growing,
And with her, frightening with her paleness,
And the month slowly rises.
He made all the shadows shorter
№60 Transparent smoke hovered over the forest
And now he looks straight into the eyes
From the misty heights of heaven.
Oh, the dead sleep of an autumn night!
№64 Oh, the terrible hour of night wonders!
In the silvery and damp fog
The clearing is light and empty;
Forest, flooded with white light,
№68 With its frozen beauty
As if he were prophesying death for himself;
The owl is silent too: it sits
Yes, he looks stupidly from the branches,
№72 Sometimes he will laugh wildly,
Falls down with a noise from above,
Flapping soft wings,
And he will sit on the bushes again
№76 And he looks with round eyes,
Leading with his eared head
Around, as if in amazement;
And the forest stands in a daze,
№80 Filled with a pale, light haze
And leaves with rotten dampness...
Don't wait: it won't show up in the morning
The sun is in the sky. Rain and haze
№84 The forest is fogged with cold smoke, -
No wonder this night passed!
But Autumn will hide deep
Everything she's been through
№88 In the silent night and lonely
He will lock himself in his chamber:
Let the forest rage in the rain,
May the nights be dark and stormy
№92 And in the clearing there are wolf eyes
They glow green with fire!
The forest is like a tower without a watcher,
All darkened and faded,
№96 September, circling through the forest,
He took the roof off it in places
And the entrance was strewn with damp leaves;
And there the winter fell at night
№100 And it began to melt, killing everything...
Horns blow in distant fields,
Their copper overflow rings,
Like a sad cry among the wide
№104 Rainy and foggy fields.
Through the noise of the trees, beyond the valley,
Lost in the depths of the forests,
The horn of Turin howls gloomily,
№108 Calling the dogs for their prey,
And the sonorous din of their voices
The desert noise carries the storm.
The rain is pouring, cold as ice,
№112 Leaves are spinning across the meadows,
And geese in a long caravan
They fly over the forest.
But the days go by. And now there's smoke
№116 They rise in pillars at dawn.
The forests are crimson and motionless.
The earth is in frosty silver.
And in the ermine slush,
№120 Having washed my pale face,
Meeting the last day in the forest,
Autumn comes out onto the porch.
The yard is empty and cold. At the gate
№124 Among two dried aspen trees,
She can see the blue of the valleys
And the expanse of the desert swamp.
The road to the far south:
№128 There from winter storms and blizzards,
From winter cold and snowstorm
The birds have long since flown away:
There and Autumn in the morning
№132 Will direct his lonely path
And forever in an empty forest
The open mansion will leave its own.
Sorry, forest! Sorry, goodbye
№136 The day will be gentle, good,
And soon soft powder
The dead edge will turn silver.
How strange they will be in this white
№140 Deserted and cold day
And the forest and the empty tower,
And the roofs of quiet villages,
And heaven and without borders
№144 There are receding fields in them!
How happy the sables will be,
And stoats and martens,
frolicking and warming up on the run
№148 In the soft snowdrifts in the meadow!
And there, like a wild dance of a shaman,
They will burst into the bare taiga
Winds on the tundra, from the ocean,
№152 Humming in the spinning snow
And howling in the field like a beast.
They will destroy the old tower,
They will leave the stakes and then
№156 On this empty skeleton
Frost will hang through,
And they will be in the blue sky
The icy palaces shine
№160 And crystal and silver.
And at night, between their white streaks.
The lights of the heavens will rise,
The star shield Stozhar will shine -
№164 At that hour when, in the silence
Frosty fire glows,
The blossoming of the polar lights.

Les, exactly terem raspisnoy,
Lilovy, zolotoy, bagryany,
Veseloy, pestroyu stenoy
Stoit nad svetloyu polyanoy.

Berezy zheltoyu rezboy
Blestyat v lazuri goluboy,
Kak vyshki, yelochki temneyut,
A mezhdu klenami sineyut
To there, to zdes v listve skvoznoy
Prosvety v sky, what okontsa.
Les pakhnet dubom i sosnoy,
Za leto vysokh on ot solntsa,
I Osen tikhoyu vdovoy
Vstupayet v pestry terem svoy.
Segodnya na empty polyane,
Serdi shirokogo dvora,
Vozdushnoy pautiny tkani
Blestyat, how set iz silver.
Segodnya tsely den igrayet
V dvore posledny motylek
I, just like a lepestok,
Na pautine zamirayet,
Prigrety solnechnym teplom;
Segodnya tak svetlo krugom,
Takoye deadvoye molchanye
V lesu i v siney vyshine,
What mozhno v etoy quiet
Rasslyshat listika shurshanye.
Les, exactly terem raspisnoy,
Lilovy, zolotoy, bagryany,
Stoit nad solnechnoy polyanoy,
Zavorozhenny tishinoy;
Zakvokhchet drozd, perelitaya
Sredi podseda, where gustaya
Listva yantarny otblesk lyet;
Igraya, v heaven promelknet
Skvortsov rassypannaya staya -
I again vse krugom zamret.
Posledniye mgnovenya schastya!
Uzh znayet Osen, why takoy
Gluboky i nemoy pokoy -
Predvestnik long ago nenastya.
Gluboko, strange les silent
I'm on the way, when it's zakata
Purple shine ognya i zlata
Pozharom terem osveshchal.
Then ugryumo v nem stemnelo.
Luna voskhodit, a v lesu
Lozhatsya teni na rosu...
That's how it's become
Sredi polyan, sredi skvoznoy
Osenney chashchi pomertveloy,
I zhutko Oseni odnoy
V desertynnoy quiet night.
Now uzh tishina drugaya:
Prislushaysya - ona rastet,
A s neyu, blednostyu pugaya,
I mesyats slowly vstayet.
Everything was done on the short side,
Prozrachny dym navel na les
I vot uzh smotrit pryamo v ochi
S tumannoy vysoty heavens.
O, dead son of autumn night!
O zhutky chas nochnykh miracles!
V srebristom i syrom tumane
Svetlo i empty na polyane;
Les, belym svetom zalitoy,
Svoyey zastyvshey krasotoy
Kak budto death sebe propochit;
Sova i ta molchit: sitit
Da tupo iz vetvey glyadit,
Poroyu diko zakhokhochet,
Sorvetsya s noise and height,
Vzmakhnuvshi myagkimi krylami,
I again syadet na kusty
I look at kruglymi glazami,
Vodya ushastoy golovoy
Postoronam, kak v izumlenye;
I les stoit v otsepenenye,
Napolnen blednoy, legkoy mgloy
I listyev syrostyu gniloy...
Ne zhdi: nautro ne proglyanet
Na heaven solntse. Dozhd i mgla
Kholodnym dymom les tumanyat, -
Nedarom eta noch proshla!
No Osen zatait deep
Everything that ona perezhila
V nemuyu noch, i odinoko
Zapretsya v tereme svoyem:
Pust bor bushuyet pod dozhdem,
Pust gloomy i nastny night
I na polyane volchyi ochi
Zelenym svetyatsya fire!
Les, exactly terem bez prizora,
Ves potemnel i polinyal,
September, kruzhas po chashcham bora,
S nego mestami kryshu snyal
I vkhod syroy listvoy usypal;
A tam zazimok nochyu vypal
I melt away, vse die...
Trubyat roga v polyakh dalekikh,
Zvenit ikh medny pereliv,
How sad vopl, sredi shirokikh
Nenastnykh i tumannykh niv.
Skvoz noise derevyev, za dolinoy,
Teryayas v deepine lesov,
Ugryumo voyet rog turiny,
Sklikaya na dobychu psov,
I zvuchny gam ikh golosov
Raznosit buri noise pustynny.
Lyet dozhd, kholodny, exactly led,
Kruzhatsya listya po polyanam,
I gusi dlinnym karavanom
Above lesom derzhat perelet.
No day will come. I vot uzh dymy
Vstayut stolbami na zare.
Lesa bagryany, nedvizhimy.
Zemlya v moroznom silver.
I v gornostayevom shugaye,
Umyvshi blednoye litso,
Posledny den v lesu vstrechaya,
Vykhodit Osen na kryltso.
Dvor empty n kholoden. V vorota,
Sredi dvukh vysokhshikh osin,
Vidna yey sineva dolin
I shir empty bolota.
Road na daleky yug:
Tuda ot zimnikh bur i vyug,
From winter stuzhi i meteli
Davno uzh ptitsy uleteli:
There i Osen poutru
Svoy lonely put napravit
I navsegda v empty boru
Raskryty terem svoy ostavit.
Forgive me, les! Prosti, proshchay,
Den budet laskovy, khoroshy,
I skoro myagkoyu poroshey
Zaserebritsya deadvy kray.
How will stranny v etot bely,
Pustynny i kholodny den
I bor, I terem opustely,
I kryshi tikhikh village,
I heaven, I bez granitsy
V nikh ukhodyashchiye polya!
How will you be glad sobolya,
I gornostai, I kunitsy,
Rezvyas i greyas na begu
V sugrobakh myagkikh na lugu!
A there, like buyny plyas shamana,
Vorvutsya v goluyu taygu
Vetry na tundry, s oceana,
Gudya v krutyashchemsya snegu
I zavyvaya v pole zverem.
Oni razrushat stary terem,
Ostavyat kolya i potom
Na etom otove empty
Povesyat inei skvoznye,
I will be in heaven
Siat chertogi ledyanye
I khrustalem i silverbrom.
A v noch, mezh belykh ikh razvodov.
Vzoydut ogni nebesnykh svodov,
Zableshchet zvezdny shchit Stozhar -
V tot chas, when sredi molchanya
Morozny svetitsya pozhar,
Rastsvet polyarnogo sianya.

Ktc, njxyj nthtv hfcgbcyjq,
Kbkjdsq, pjkjnjq, fuhzysq,
Dtctkjq, gtcnhj/ cntyjq
Cnjbn yfl cdtnkj/ gjkzyjq/

Thtps ;tknj/ htpm,jq
,ktcnzn d kfpehb ujke,jq,
Rfr dsirb, tkjxrb ntvyt/n,
F vt;le rktyfvb cbyt/n
Nj nfv, nj pltcm d kbcndt crdjpyjq
Ghjcdtns d yt,j, xnj jrjywf/
Ktc gf)